So, what happens when you suddenly discover that the person who has been sharing your life is actually a stranger? Worse than that, they turn out to be a person who has deliberately deceived and manipulated you with surgeon-like precision. Wrapping you in a web of deceit — delivered so skillfully and carefully that you’ve welcomed the silken threads as they tighten around you. Freely allowing yourself to be wrapped in the cocoon being made by your soul mate. It’s only once you have morphed in to an emotional mush of confusion and fear that you realize you are trapped. And by then, of course, it’s too late — and your mate is off to the next willing victim.
I know, of course, that so many of you will identify with this experience. After only one week as part of the Lovefraud team, I have been amazed by the responses I have been receiving. I can feel the support that resonates among the community here, and I am delighted to be a part of it. I am not happy, of course, that so many of us are joined together here because we have suffered at the hands of another — but I know that together we can heal… no, I know that we are healing. After all, we’re here aren’t we?
If you’re anything like me, you won’t have come in to contact with the terminology ”˜sociopath’ until it happened to you. For my part, I had never even heard the word. It created an earth-shattering jolt in my consciousness when a dear friend of mine shared her opinion that the man I had called my soul mate was in fact a sociopath.
So for my second post I thought I’d share what happened to me when the truth suddenly dawned on me, because that moment marked the beginning of my healing.
It was nearing midnight on Thursday 9th July 2009. It was a typically warm summer’s night that found me in my bed at home in France, distractedly checking through my emails on the iPhone for the umpteenth time. Anything to try and quieten my mind and bring me back to normality. I was mentally and physically exhausted but my tortured mind and aching soul refused to let me sleep. No matter how much I tried to rationalize the past ten weeks, or how much I attempted to make sense of the situation, I simply couldn’t find any answers. Peace seemed a very distant memory as I continued to search for clues. What had happened? Where had I gone so wrong? What had prompted my beloved husband of 10 years to lie to me for so long? Why did he need to create so many other lives? What had I done to make him stop loving me? How had I missed the signs? What could I have done differently? The questions circled, round and round my head like the mythological embittered Harpies — snatching at my rising fears, cackling at my confusion, their cruel wings fanning the flames of despair that threatened to engulf my soul.
I am a motivational coach and leadership trainer, known for my ability to quickly get to the heart of the issue. I am employed for my skills in reading and understanding people, so how had I been so blind to my husband? We were a team, we worked together, lived together, loved together and had spent nearly every day and night in each other’s company since the day we met — and I loved him totally; heart, body and soul. Only the year before we had celebrated our ten-year anniversary together, and just a few weeks before Christmas we’d spent his 40th birthday together on the beaches of a beautiful Caribbean health spa. Our life together, as I thought, was perfect!
And yet now, here I was, alone with my son in the beautiful French farmhouse we had lovingly restored over the past 6 years, betrayed and deserted by the person I truly believed was my soul mate, left alone to deal with the enormity of the emotional and financial wreckage caused by my husband’s double life. It had all happened so suddenly — the chance email just three months earlier that led me on a trail of discovery to uncover the horrifying truth that I was married to a stranger. Cold, hard, black and white proof that my idyllic life was in fact a total sham — and the equally cold hard fact that my husband had simply vanished out of our lives the second he knew he’d been rumbled, leaving my son and I to deal with the fall-out. Disappeared without a trace just as quickly as he’d arrived in our lives more than ten years earlier.
Around and around the questions turned in my head. The Harpies I had named “Who” “What” “Where” “When” and “How” mocking my stupidity, berating my gullibility, and piercing ever more deeply in to my already broken heart.
And then I saw it. It was an email out of the blue from an old friend Mandy, which naturally pricked my interest. It was a kind and thoughtful message of support, the contents of which seemed harmless — the very same email that had me shaking to the core just a short while later as I explored the following words:
“”¦Interestingly, you may or may not know that I am doing my masters degree in forensic psychology at the moment, and recently have done loads of work on sociopaths. Lets put it this way – he shows all the signs – in retrospect of course! So in fairness, he was highly skilled at fooling everyone. In fact, not just skilled – it was natural to him. Therefore, who would have known? He has no conscience. And before long, he will find another place for himself, and will never feel any remorse, because he doesn’t know how to”¦”
Sociopath was a term I had not come across before and so, after a quick scan for more information on the internet, I discovered that a sociopath is also known as a psychopath. My brows furrowed as disbelief and comprehension entered my head at the same time. So I asked the question out loud to see if it made a difference: “You mean to tell me that my husband is actually a PSYCHOPATH?” Chills ran through my body, my mouth went dry, and the Harpies were suddenly very still and very quiet.
Random images of famous psychopaths came flooding in to my head — Norman Bates from Psycho, Peter Sutcliffe the Yorkshire Ripper, America’s Ted Bundy and Heath Ledger as The Joker — the absurdity of the idea prompting nervous laughter to erupt from deep within me. And then silence again as I truly began to consider the enormity of this new information. The room was still. My mind was quiet. My heart started thumping loudly in my chest. Holding the iPhone in my left hand, and hugging myself with my right arm, I read yet another ”˜checklist’ for sociopathy and realized with absolute clarity that my ex’s behaviours actually ticked each and every one of the boxes — to a tee. I shuddered, forcing myself to breathe, and blinking wildly, hoping that I had somehow misinterpreted the information.
And that was the precise moment when the archetypal psychopath, Dr Hannibal Lecter made his sudden and unwelcome appearance in my mind — crystal clear and standing just a few feet away from me in the corner of my bedroom. Sucking air through his teeth and smacking his lips, he held me hypnotized with his ice-cold beguiling stare, clearly enjoying my confusion as I quietly considered the overwhelming evidence that my estranged husband, the man I had loved with all my heart and soul, was in fact a text-book psychopath.
“But surely I’d know if I was in the company of someone like that?” I reasoned to myself, the dank smell of Hannibal’s cell now beginning to permeate my senses, his chains rattling my imagination. “I’m an executive business coach! I’ve been working in the field of personal development for over 13 years! I’m wise to the ways of different personalities and what makes people tick!” I tried to rationalise, becoming more aware that my bewilderment was arousing the curiosity of my uninvited guest.
I was hooked. And as I read further, uncovering facts, examples of typical traits, and stories from other victims of a sociopathic relationship, I was gradually coming to the horrifying comprehension that my friend’s prognosis was correct. In equal measures of horror and relief, I also began to understand that I was not alone. That there were literally thousands of women with stories just like mine — many of which I found on this very site. Intelligent, professional, and successful women who had willingly succumbed, fallen in love, followed their dreams and been thwarted by the malevolent charms of the skilled and charismatic sociopath.
As we all now know, these people are predominantly men. Charming, witty and attentive — the life and soul of the party. Men who can sweep you off your feet, make you believe that you are the most precious person in the world. Men who let you dare to dream that all your dreams have come true and convince you that you’ve found your true soul mate. Men who make you feel that anything is possible, and encourage you to live life to the full. Men who slowly and deliberately bleed you dry, suck out your soul and leave you for dead, without even a backwards glance — but by the time you realize this, of course, it’s too late. Much too late.
Suddenly I began to see things from a different angle. Suddenly things started to make sense. Dr Lecter faded safely back in to the darkness of my imagination, as I began to replace his image with strangely comforting feelings of relief. Because it was finally dawning on me that the experience I was living, my own personal living nightmare, was not something I could have foretold. So I was not to blame for what had happened — there was nothing more I could have done. In fact, I’d had a lucky escape.
This marked the beginning of my journey towards understanding what had happened to me. How I’d found myself in such a horrific and unimaginable mess. After three long months, April’s hurricane of discovery that had all but broken me in its relentless force to destroy all that I had believed in, gradually started to loosen its grip in light of this new information.
At the same time I also realized, with frightening clarity, that in order to truly comprehend what had happened, to come to terms with how I had come to find myself in such a horrendous situation, I was going to have to embark on a journey of self-discovery. I would need to find out more about what had happened to other people. Understand the true meaning behind the word sociopath, or psychopath. Recognise the traits within myself that allowed me to be the perfect target — dig deeply in to my own psyche and explore my own choices in life. Examine how I’d got here, what I’d believed about myself and others and my own deeply held personal values. And, most importantly, to find my strength and finally to heal.
My years of experience in personal development told me it was not going to be an easy journey. Some of the deeply buried feelings and experiences of my past would need to be re-examined. I would need to dredge through parts of my life I thought I’d already dealt with. Old scars I thought I’d healed would need to be re-opened and treated anew. It would be painful. It would mean re-visiting old chapters of my life. Re-living the hurts of the past in order to truly understand what was going on.
And I would also need to venture in to the depths of this murky world that I was just beginning to discover. I would likely need to stand in the shoes of these soulless people I now knew existed for real, and who live and work among us. Because unless I could comprehend the workings of a sociopath, I would neither be able to heal nor protect myself in the future.
I was alerted to the sounds of Dr Lecter once again shuffling around in the back of my mind, his interest clearly intensified by my growing fear at what lay ahead. And I heard a barely perceptible laugh — or was it a cackle — coming from the darkest corners of my imagination. The unpalatable solution hit me like a steam train, and I understood at that moment that he would need to become an ally in my journey; for who better than the archetypal sociopath, Dr Hannibal Lecter himself to help me understand the twisted workings in the mind of a psychopath?
“If I help you, Melanie, it will be “turns” with us too. Quid pro quo. I tell you things, you tell me things. About yourself. Quid pro quo. Yes or no?”
His perfect and calculated logic slithered towards me, the words and the consequences of what I was about to do sending shivers through my body. I would need to let Hannibal Lecter inside my head if ever I was going to become free. It was the only way to regain my sanity and claim my life back. And, surely, this couldn’t be any worse than the real life experiences I had already survived?
So I nodded my silent agreement and the deal was done. I would allow the specter of Hannibal to steer me as I unravel the past and make sense of my pain. A smug sneer crept across Dr Lecter’s face, as he pulled himself upright and acknowledged my consent “Brave Melanie. You will tell me when those lambs stop screaming, won’t you?”
So this was the beginning of my recovery. I started preparing for my own personal voyage of soul-searching, education, self-questioning and personal discoveries right through to the eventual victory I knew was waiting for me. I’d have to return to the innocence I once knew, and in returning there I knew I’d have to face some ugly and painful memories. I’d have to rearrange them to make sense of what had happened, and to ensure that I would never again be taken in by anyone whose sole intention was to hurt me.
Hannibal fixed me with his steely stare, the rest of his face shrouded in shadows as he slowly wound his fingers around the bars in his cell.
“Clearly this new assignment is not your choice” he hissed “rather I suppose it is a part of the bargain but you accepted it Melanie. Your job is ultimately to craft my doom. So I am not sure how well I should wish you but I’m sure we’ll have a lot of fun. So let’s start at the beginning — tell me everything you know”
With that his image once again faded away, and I felt that I had just made a deal with the devil. But at the same time, I knew that my journey to freedom had begun.
Perplexed and sad:
It depends. We all heal at different rates. It takes some of us longer than others. I have always tended to hang onto things for whatever reason. If that’s not you, then you may not hurt for years. I guess it depends on how deep the damage was to your heart and mind.
My mother was, more or less, most of her life, a “traditional wife”, and she GAVE UP, when she married my father, her chance for a career in music (she was almost graduated from a college, renown for music, only second to the “best” in the nation, to marry my father.. a diplomat, then produced four children), but she instilled, in all of her children, male and female, the ability to TRULY LOVE one’s chosen mate..something, I think, that my ex (spath) never learned.
It is well knøwn, that, in the diplomatic services, including in Foreign Service occupations, that, wives to husbands in those occupations, traditionally sit on the “side lines”.. Mostly, they are in positions where they cannot achieve careers, but often work in “volunteer” activities, in hospitals, for example, as my mother did, that did not pay.
This work, to me, did not make those “diplomatic wives” LESS than their husbands. They COULD NOT GAIN CAREERS, because their husbands, typical to their husband’s careers, had to uproot, to another job, every two or three years!
I am just giving you the “scoop” .. about wives of diplomatic husbands. So…my mother was one such wife. In contrast, I COMPLETED my college education, where she did not. I was the FIRST FEMALE, on BOTH sides of my family..on my mother’s side, and on my father’s side, to gain a college career.
One would have thought that the male I chose to be my mate, would have been PROUD of my accomplishments (especially when HE HAD NO COLLEGE DEGREE!)
It seemed like my ex (SPATH) lived for syphoning my energies and my families energies and accomplishments, ..that he hoped to GAIN, by OSMOSIS, on my back, on my family’s back, and on the backs of his former wives and the relatives of his former wives, before me!
What a sheisthead he was.
Open to anyone’s comments on this, especially if her life paralleled my own.
Zim
Just to give you a clue about my character..even from when I was only age 8..living in a very strange land..One day, in my apartment complex, I met a girl bully. She threatened other girls in my neighborhood. I challenged her to a fight. I lost the fight. The “stage/area” for the fight was our apartment neighborhood complex. Yes, I lost. But I was angry that this BULLY FEMALE had PURPOSELY, when playing “leapfrog” with a group of girls, had STOOD UP before one girl had the chance to jump over her. The result of the female BULLY’S actions was that one poor girl lost her front teeth. That was why I challenged the BULLY. Yes, I lost my challenge to the BULLY, but I do not consider my efforts at defending the girl who lost her front teeth, as in vain, okay?
zim:
Good for you!!! You stood up for others and yourself at an early age.
Even though I lost that fight to the BULLY, at age seven. With a black eye from her, I announced to all in our audience what a Bully she was. She had, after all, PUT OUT THE TEETH of an INNOCENCT GIRL, by standing up when the INNOCENT GIRL leapfrogged over her. She left the scene crying. Defeat does not mean WEAKNESS of character. This was my earliest lesson in life, about SPATHS and bad character.
Zim
Perplexed and sad,
About this: “Someone touched on a subject that I have been feeling but haven’t expressed until this point. I have wondered several times, “What if he truly does love his wife more than he ever loved me?” or what if he does move on and treats her better than me? I feel like I’ve just been thrown out like yesterdays garbage and that I don’t matter at all.”
I feel completely unqualified to offer advice, because I’m still in the beginning stages of freeing myself from this horrible human being. But I also want you to hear what many people have already told me — AND IT’S ALREADY PROVEN TO BE TRUE — they don’t change. Ever, ever, ever.
I was in the same boat as you. Not long ago my spath, after coming over and having sex with me, said he felt so guilty about it because he was already dating someone else. (I knew this. For some stupid reason, when he showed up on my doorstep I let him in anyway. He kept me in his life in the “best friend” role, which is laugh-out-loud funny to me now.)
Anyway, he said that I had “inspired and challenged” him to be a better person and boyfriend with her from now on. Because of ME, he was going to stop running from happiness anymore. He was going to stop the self-loathing and really be a good person. With HER. (What an ass, right?? He actually told me this stuff, word for word.)
So I worried about that. I don’t want him to suddenly be good and noble and big-hearted!!! That’s all kinds of wrong!! Because that would mean that something had been wrong with ME. He was never a good guy with me.
Long story short: Five days later, he’d already started texting me dirty stuff again. I asked if he was still dating this woman. Yes. “Do you like her?” “I like her.” “Then why are you saying this stuff to me?” “I crave you.”
There’s a lot more that I could say — he really showed his true colors around that time — but I wanted you to hear this to be reassured that they don’t change. Not one tiny bit. Even though I’m still extracting myself, it fills me with relief to know that what everybody on this site said was exactly true. A crocodile will never, ever be transformed into a sweet little kitty cat.
AND: After realizing this, why would we ever want them back as significant others, once we see how they treat the person they’re dating? I now see it from the outside looking in. He’s a skilled liar and a cheater and should never be trusted by anyone. Especially me!!
Good luck to you!!! We’ll get through this (hopefully quickly!). I think humor helps, btw. hugs!
Thank you, Louise, for your “feed forward” statement. Back then, a few years later, my next-to-oldest brother also confronted a bully.. a racist on a bus. The racist bullied a mixed race child and my brother defended the object of racism, said, “You’re not so pink yourself!” I’m not sure what it was my brother meant, then, but I was PROUD of him having defended someone of another race, who was the object of bigotry.
That same brother, succeeded in life..lives on a mansion on a hill, with his wife, retired, after 20+ years, from a successful/intellectual career, in our govt. I, unfortunately, was not as successful as he, but am happy that he succeeded.
Still, many, even those in my brother’s social strata, never SEE what happens when SPATHS ruin the lives of their sisters, nieces, aunts, daughters, mothers.., etc., because they are so INSULATED..often insulated by their IVORY TOWERS, never to actually witness the plight of the less fortunate than themselves, when they remain APATHETIC to those who achieved LESS than they achieved. I’ve seen this. Over and over.
Zim
What comes to mind for me, when the SPATH perps, are the lyrics from Curtis Mayfield and The Impressions.., from “People Get Ready”:
“There ain’t no room for the hopeless sinner
Who would hurt all mankind just to save his own”
Eva Cassidy’s arrangement of it hits home, for me.
Zim
My ex (spath) created in me a major crisis in my spiritual beliefs, after him.
Even before him, I saw so many “jack Mormons” and fake Christians, using their supposed “Christian” beliefs to con women, across a forty year period in my life.
This phenomena disturbed me, to no end, given that I grew up, as a child, in the land of Christ.
My partner (after the spath) in my life, was also an acolyte, raised to Episcopalian faith. He, too, saw many contradictions, so became a Buddhist. We, consequently, have an interfaith union.
One of my brothers, on the other hand, married to a beautiful woman (divorced from a “mercenary husband”), who, before he met his wife, had converted to Judaism, to marry a woman in a foreign land, who was so upset, due to a former lover, before my brother met her, and spent many months converting to her faith.
My brother went through the “rituals” converting to an “orthodox” faith, to be joined with that woman. He severed his relationship from her, after he converted, when he learned she had aborted a child (I do not know if it was his or another man’s)
I only know that, when my brother left his fiancee, she was distraught. I met her, when I was in my 20’s. She was distraught that my brother, after having gone through extensive religious rituals to become her husband, left her. She was distraught, when I met her, in that foreign land, one season.
I know not who was in the “wrong” or who was in the “right” in that situation, but, from that example and my own in life, I feel, strongly, that:
1) too many men do not forgive women, when they ask for forgiveness;
2) too many men look to the “easy way out” of “tight” situations, to “exempt” them from their “sins”
3) Literally, “sin” means “missing the mark” .. did you know that?
Zim
Zim:
Yes, I knew that sin meant missing the mark which I have done way too many times in my life. I am human.